And all is Darkness
by 23Sammy
Summary: "Stop grieving and challenge destiny." She said. "Turn doubt into conviction and the shadows of fate will pass. Turn despair into hope and the darkness will retreat. Turn tears into laughter and the light will return." He had no idea how... / Set after the series finale /
1. All is Shadow

A/N: First "Merlin" fic ever, first new piece of writing in almost a year and judging from what I have so far, one that will be with me for quite a while. So I am a little nervous to post the first chapter, but hope that someone might actually like it. Also: Own nothing, except for the typos.

**Prologue: All is Shadow**

The shadows crept across the grass, flooding the short stretch of meadow with darkness, pushing forward, outwards towards the edge of the lake. It was a familiar journey, one the shadows made at the end of every day. One that never varied and one that always ended with waves of dark light crashing into waves of water where the land ended and the lake began. At the end of every day, darkness and cold met and when they did, night fell. The shadows moved smoothly over everything in their path: Grass, stone, wood, man. They now reached the slender ankle of a deer, and without hesitation hurled themselves upon it. They crawled over its fur, snaking up its hind legs until they moved onto its back. The deer had been grazing leisurely on a stretch of meadow close to the lake, enjoying the warmth of the sun on its back. Now it raised its head in alarm, pricked up its ears and turned around. The animal took an almost tentative step backwards, then another. Then it stopped and looked at the darkness it had just escaped from. Then it looked up at the sky and tilted its head. Its flanks started trembling slightly and it made a tiny noise of fear. Finally, when instinct overrode everything else, it bolted away.

The shadows moved on. Silently. Steadily. Leaving the last patches of grass behind, the shadow that the deer had run from, rolled over the shingles and stones towards the water, but before it could reach its destination, there was another obstacle to overcome: A boot. The shadow crept closer, silently lifting itself from the wet stones and reaching out towards the worn brown leather and the straps and buckles. But then the shadow did something it had never done before.

It recoiled.

It stopped.

Like everything else.

A cry of so much sadness and pain ripped through the silence and the air and the earth and everything that was and everything that was not, that it brought time itself to a halt. Too scared of what might happen, if the cry and all the suffering it contained was allowed to end and turn into a memory, time had stopped in fear.

Just for heartbeat.

Just for a breath.

The man who had uttered the cry wished both to be his last, but when time recovered and resumed and air was expelled from his lungs in something that was neither a breath nor a sigh nor a cry anymore, but a sound too complicated to name, he knew with a cruel certainty that he was to go on.

He had no idea how.

He stood in the shallow water of the shore and stared across to the island in the middle of the lake. Darkness and cold, now reunited after the sun had gone, bit through his boots and began their ascend from his feet into the rest of this body. Not that he noticed. Or cared. He strained his eyes to keep sight of the tower on the tiny island far from the shore, but it was fading fast now, becoming nothing more than a shadow within shadows, a place where the darkness seemed a little darker than everywhere else. A place you could feel to be there, but not really see.

"Edhwierft æfenléoht", he whispered into the night.

For a moment the darkness recoiled from his words and he could see the tower again, surrounded by mist, glowing in a light that was neither white nor blue, but the colour of magic. He stared at it, unblinking, while tears streamed down his face. He stared at the tower, hoping to see movement there, light, sound - any sign of life. But the only thing he saw, the image that burned itself into his memory, his soul and his heart, was the dark building itself. When he was finally forced to close his eyes and blink, the darkness had returned. A small noise escaped his throat, his eyes desperately trying to find the tower again.

"Edhwierft æfenléoht", he cried into the night. Again and again and again, until his voice gave way, until his knees buckled and exhaustion pushed his body to the ground. Until he finally crawled out of the shallow water and dragged himself a little further up the slope. Until his eyes finally fell shut, a last tear trickling down his left cheek. Until after endless hours sleep claimed him at last and and everything went dark.


	2. All is Darkness

Waking up is a strange thing. It is the same process every day and yet it is different every time. Merlin remembered times when he had just slowly opened his eyes to a new day, the sunlight streaming into the room, tickling his face and a smile still lingering there from the day before. He remembered being woken by sound - both good and bad - or by pain or sometimes by fear. Sometimes the use of magic had nudged him out of his dreams, sometimes the smell of breakfast. There had also been countless times he had been forced into sudden consciousness by various quite practical means - very often involving cold water and/or friendly slaps to various parts of his head. He had, however, never woken up feeling like this before. Cold and sadness tore him slowly into reality, pushing him through a wall of pain and sorrow, while he struggled desperately to stay asleep, to return to oblivion, where everything was dark and nothing was real. But the wave of pain and loss travelling from his heart to his head and back made him nauseous to which his body responded by going into alarm mode. He was wide awake. Slowly he put his left hand to his face and flinched. Salty tears and the cold of the night had made his skin red and angry and tiny needles stuck in the spots where his hand had touched his face. He didn't want to open his eyes, but he knew that he had to. Yesterday, just before he had fallen asleep he had thought of a reason to wake up again. But he couldn't remember what it was now. He also couldn't remember how long he had stared at the lake. An hour? A day? A week?

He turned a little and rolled his body up into a ball, eyes still firmly and stubbornly shut against the world and everything in it.

Although, he had to admit, even through his grief and pain, there was not much *in* the world right now. At least nothing his ears could pick up. The silence around him seemed complete. He could imagine the whisper of the wind and the rustling of trees and the animals in the forest, where all sorts of things hummed and rustled and screamed and screeched. He could imagine it. But he could not hear it. He listened closely, but there was no sound.

And it scared him just enough to open his eyes.

It was dark. It was night. That explained the silence. Suddenly he felt a little silly. He shook his head and smiled, turning his head to tell...

There was no one beside him to tell anything to. And there never would be again.

Before grief managed to paralyse him again, he stretched his back, joints cracking in protest, muscles stiff and sore and whining with strain. Merlin sat up, his eyes already fixed on the lake again. This time he didn't need a spell, he could just make out the shape of the tower beyond the water. How long had he been asleep? An hour? A whole day? More? He cast his glance up towards the sky and frowned.

There were no stars.

There were no clouds either.

Merlin pushed himself off the grass and got up. Now that his senses had started to focus on the world around him again, he began to shiver. The dampness of the grass had soaked through his jacket, shirt and trousers and his body finally managed to inform him of the fact that he was about to freeze. Merlin wrapped his arms around himself and looked around for the little supplies they still had left after the horses had bolted away.

They. We. No more.

Merlin shook his head to clear it. His body, apparently very relieved at getting his attention at last, started to remind him of other things he was in danger of. One of which was starvation. He found the two bags and retrieved some bread from the second one. His body was thankful for the nourishment, but his soul felt nauseas and sick with every bite he took. He looked back up at the starless sky. There was no moon either. Yet it had been a full moon at Camlann, when..

Camlann.

Oh gods.

The sob burst from him, seconds before the tears started falling again. He wanted to fight both, but found it impossible. "Arthur" he whispered into the darkness. "Please. I don't know what to do. I don't know... I just... please, don't leave me alone here."

When the worst of the tears and the sobs had subsided, Merlin wiped his sleeve across his face, the burning sensation on his skin a welcome distraction from the pain in his soul.

He remembered the morning after what until now had been the longest night of his life. The night Arthur had mourned his dead father and he, Merlin, had sat on the stone floor, staring at the huge wooden doors, waiting, hurting, longing to find a way to ease his friend's grief. He remembered how all was darkness then and suddenly the doors flew open and there was light. So much light. And Arthur. Standing there, like the son of the sun, saying "It's a new day." And it was.

Merlin blinked the last tears away and sent one final desperate whisper into the shadows.

"All is darkness now, without you, Arthur. All is darkness, because you are gone."

"All is darkness, because you make it so, young sorcerer."

The voice in his mind was clear as a spring, yet as deep as the water at the bottom of the lake, soft as the voice of a robin and yet as sharp as the cry of an eagle. An old voice. Older than any voice Merlin had ever heard.

The owner of the voice stood at the shore of the lake, a white cloak wrapped around her slender body. The figure was bathed in a glow of blue light and Merlin could feel powerful magic emanating from the woman like the scent of a sweet perfume.

"What do you mean by that?", he asked, stepping towards her.

"This darkness. It is your darkness."

"It's just night", Merlin said, turning his head to look up at the sky again. No stars. No moon. No clouds.

A sound like the chirrup of a nightingale resounded in his head, then the voice said.

"It is midday, young sorcerer. The night is long past."

"But it's dark", Merlin pointed out, feeling a bit foolish, but also starting to lose patience.

"It is dark, but it is not night."

Merlin's hands clenched into fists. He felt pain turn to anger, hot fury rising from deep within him. For a second he wondered if that was how a dragon's breath became fire.

"That is not an answer", he growled through clenched teeth, trying to keep his anger under control. He had had enough of prophesies and cryptic answers and half-truths and riddles and frankly... *this*.

"I want a simple plain answer! Is that too much to ask? Why does it always have to be like this? Why can't you people just say what you mean for once? Just for once! I want a plain! Simple! Answer!", he snarled at her.

The woman reached up to her cloak and slowly drew back the hood. The face beneath the hood was beautiful and pale, the skin almost like marble. Dark hair fell in thick curls around her face, hair that reminded him of Morgana, when they first met. When things had been... different. Bright green eyes locked their gaze with his and the wisdom and age in them was almost too much for Merlin to bear. He blinked and cast his eyes down, realising that he had spotted something else in the green depths that had made him look away. A warning. A warning to show some respect or suffer the consequences. Merlin bowed his head slightly.

"I am sorry for shouting. Forgive me. It's just... I lost someone."

"We know."

There was no pity, no sympathy in the voice, but no malice or anger either.

"You are grieving. You are in pain. We know."

"He was my best friend. My best..."

Merlin's voice deserted him and he looked up at her. Green eyes. Knowing eyes. The woman reached out her left hand towards him. Merlin didn't draw back, just stood there, eyes cast to the ground again, unable to look at her for longer than a heartbeat.

Her hand reached his right cheek, the touch of her fingers leaving a cool tingling sensation that didn't hurt like his own touch had earlier. Tenderly she lifted his head up and forced him to look at her again.

A small smile danced around her mouth.

"That is what I meant, Emrys. Your grief is casting the world into darkness. It is your magic that turned day into night."

Merlin stared at her, eyes wide. "What? No, no, I didn't. I didn't use any magic at all."

"You are grieving the passing of your friend. Your soul is in pain. And your soul is of magic. And so the pain turned into magic and cast the world in darkness. For three days it has been dark. For three days and three nights. And we waited for it to end. For your grief to end."

Merlin looked back at the ground, fists still clenched, pressing them together so hard it brought fresh tears to his eyes. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

"It will never end."

The woman said nothing.

"He was my best friend."

"We know."

"He was my best friend and the greatest king this world has ever seen."

"We know."

Merlin felt fresh tears in his eyes.

"This world still needs him. I still need him."

"We know."

Merlin's heart began to beat faster, a tiny glimmer of hope rising within him, breaking free from the despair.

"Who are you?"

"I am Tyronoe, one of the nine sisters."

"Is he save? Is he with you?"

"He is."

Merlin closed his eyes, his breath coming out in shallow bursts, his palms started to sweat in the cold night and his voice was shaking with emotion and fear and hope and something beyond.

"Is he... alive?"

The woman made no answer, just cocked her head slightly to one side.

Merlin stepped forward, pleading.

"Please."

"It is a question we do not possess the answer to, young warlock."

Merlin stared at her, puzzled, yet not angry. He could sense that she was honest and not trying to out-riddle him, but also that she was avoiding giving a clear answer nevertheless.

"What do you mean?", he demanded. She smiled at him. "You have been given part of the answer by another already."

"What the dragon said? That Arthur will rise again one day when Albion's need is greatest?"

She inclined her head in a small nod.

"It is not the answer to the question I actually asked", Merlin said, but without any anger in his voice.

She smiled again and Merlin caught something in her eyes that was either amusement or surprise or slight admiration. Or all of them at once.

"It is the only answer we can offer you, Emrys."

Merlin's eyes grew dark again, the flicker of hope dying. He unclenched his fists in defeat.

"Then my grief will never end."

"Then the world will remain in darkness and all life will perish."

Merlin stared at her in shock. "No! That... no! I didn't mean to do this. Please, you have to help me..."

She inclined her head again. "That is why I was sent to the shore."

"Please", Merlin said again. "What do I have to do to reverse this?"

"Stop grieving and challenge destiny." She simply said. "Turn doubt into conviction and the shadows of fate will pass. Turn despair into hope and the darkness will retreat. Turn tears into laughter and the light will return."

The weight of her words forced him to his knees. Literally. He fell down, shoulders bent, head down, silent tears streaming down his face. He didn't want her to see them. He didn't want her to see how weak he was, how useless, how guilty and cowardly. He could not do this again. Destiny. Fate. He was done with them. Once and for all. What use was it to hope again? To fight? To be told that he, Merlin, could change the destinies of others, when clearly this was the one thing he was undoubtedly and completely rubbish at?

Hands touched his shoulders and he felt her magic starting to take the physical pain away from him.

"No", he said sharply, though his voice was hoarse and shaking. "Don't. I deserve the pain. It is my pain. I have to bear it. All of this is my fault, this is my punishment and I will have to live with it for the rest of my life."

She laughed again, that strange birdly laugh he had heard before.

"What is so funny?"

"You may be powerful, but you are still very young, Emrys. You think you cannot bear the weight of hope, but you will bear the weight of pain?"

"How can I hope? How can I stop grieving? This is my fault, all of it! I could have stopped this! Years ago! If I had killed Modred when I was told how dangerous he was, none of this would have happened! If I had killed Morgana when I was told to, none of this would have happened! Arthur would still be alive, if I hadn't been such a coward!"

He didn't care anymore if she saw his tears now. This was the truth and probably his only chance to ever say it. He could never tell Gwen and add to her sorrow or Gaius or any of the knights and see the disappointment in their eyes.

"Don't you see? This was my fault. I could not bear the burden. I could not make the decisions that were necessary. I could not do the task I was given. I failed. At everything."

She bent down, her white cloak rustling in the darkness, the blue glow encircling herself and Merlin and bringing a little light into the darkness of the day. She looked at him and this time there was emotion in her ancient eyes. And once again Merlin thought it was amusement. Then the eyes turned dark and she grabbed his shoulders.

"Destiny and destination are brothers, Merlin. No matter where you go, how many different paths you take on your journey, you will always end up where you are supposed to be. Listen to me, young Merlin, listen carefully."

Her hold on his shoulders tightened and she waited until he looked up at her, eyes red from crying, face pale and the shadows under his eyes deep and dark. She felt pity for this brave soul and the world it had accidentally cast into darkness and that was why she said:

"Not the end of your journey matters, but the journey itself. If you had killed the boy or the young man, innocent until the moment he raised his sword against the king, your soul would have been stained with his blood. You would have become a murderer. If you had killed the king's ward, not a witch then, but a frightened and confused girl, it would have darkened your soul beyond repair. And it would have solved nothing, because in the end, we would still have ended up right here, right now. With one difference."

She fell silent, trying to judge if he was ready to hear her next words. Merlin held her gaze, but his flickered. Something dawned on him.

"What... difference..."

"You wouldn't be mourning Arthur's death, but celebrating it. If you had killed the boy and the woman in cold blood, you would have become a very different man from the one you are now. You would have become a man that destiny would gladly have taken to fill both their places. You would have been the one to kill the once and future king."

A cry rose from deep within him and for a moment he was scared, it might tear him apart. It burst from him, powerful and strong, a storm of anger and conviction and emotion and fear that echoed across the lake and the forest beyond.

"NEVER!"

In the middle of the lake, within the walls of the tower, at the highest window, a figure stared across the lake towards the sound. It cocked its head, recognising the sound of the voice, but not remembering why or how. It also didn't remember if it actually could remember anything, if it actually was anything at all, since its body was translucent, not really here no there, nothing more than a reflection in a window. "Never" it whispered with a conviction so strong, that for a moment it felt alive. At the shore of the lake, the woman turned and looked towards the west. A smile crossed her face.


End file.
